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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22525006">Wicked Games</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla'>ObliObla</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Obli's Fuckruary 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lucifer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blindfolds, Established Relationship, F/M, Handcuffs, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Smut, fuckruary2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 11:42:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22525006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re such a tease,” Lucifer whispers, and, from his tone, Chloe knows it’s the finest compliment he could give.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Obli's Fuckruary 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>212</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wicked Games</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Continuing right along, day 2 prompt is Tease/Sensory Deprivation. </p><p>Thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary">MoanDiary</a> for smoothing this out a little.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re such a tease,” Lucifer whispers, and, from his tone, Chloe knows it’s the finest compliment he could give.</p><p>He is sitting on the end of his bed, naked except for the scrap of black fabric over his eyes, the plugs in his ears, and the soft, leather cuffs binding his hands behind his back. There is an easy smile on his face, and, when she makes no move toward him, he licks his lips and speaks again.</p><p>“You wouldn’t leave me all alone, would you, Detective?”</p><p>There’s no accusation in his voice, but as she lets the seconds pass into minutes, she knows his brows have pulled together under the blindfold. He is wondering—she can see it in the subtle clenching of his jaw—if she really would leave him here, alone. She’s certain he trusts her, but this isn’t about that. Not quite, at least.</p><p>He could unfasten the cuffs, could pull off the blindfold and remove the earplugs, could prove to himself that she’s still standing beside one of the stone columns that frame the entrance to his bedroom, watching him. But he doesn’t, doesn’t move at all except to drum his fingertips on the edge of the leather, to flex his feet against cool marble floor.</p><p>And, still, she waits. Waits until his hands and legs settle, waits until his jaw slackens and his tongue slips out to wet his lips again, not as some attempt to get a rise, but as if, lacking sensation, it has moved of its own accord.</p><p>She moves quietly, stepping between his spread legs, though still not quite touching. By his sudden intake of breath, she knows he’s felt her present regardless.</p><p>“Mm, Chloe,” he murmurs, tilting his head so they’d be making eye contact were the blindfold not still on his face. “Couldn’t stay away, darling?”</p><p>It’s bravado—a way to regain a little power in such a vulnerable position—and they both know it, but she can’t help indulging him anyway, slipping a hand into his hair, scratching a little at his scalp. It’s indulging herself too, after all; she loves playing with his hair almost as much as he loves having her tangle her fingers with it and tease out the curls. He hums, but as soon as he pushes into her grasp, she pulls away, and his quiet sound ends on a whine.</p><p>She grabs him by the shoulders, suddenly though not particularly firmly, and pushes him into the mattress just a little. “Stay put,” she whispers, and though he can’t hear, he takes the meaning well enough.</p><p>“Fine, fine,” he grumbles, though as she leans in to hold her face near his, he freezes, head turned up into her space.</p><p>“Be good, and I’ll give you a reward,” she breathes against his lips, and he shivers.</p><p>“Yes,” he says suddenly. “Yes to whatever you just said.”</p><p>She gives him a kiss on the cheek for being so accommodating before she withdraws, and he chuckles breathlessly, but doesn’t speak. He merely sits, waiting expectantly.</p><p>She didn’t really have a plan when she suggested this game besides wanting to take things slow, but after an unproductive afternoon staring distractedly at his hands while she was <em> supposed </em>to be working on paperwork, she’s got some ideas. One of her hands returns to his hair, rucking it beyond disheveled and well into a true mess, while the other trails down his cheek, around his jaw, over his lips—withdrawing when he tries to kiss them.</p><p>Slowly, he learns that accepting her touch is the way to keep it happening. He sits still as a statue—albeit one that whines and breathes harshly with every motion—while she steps closer to run her palms down either side of his spine, to caress his hips, skim his stomach, and tweak his nipples. She presses even closer to trace his ribcage and take his earlobe between her teeth, and her clothed legs brush the insides of his bare thighs.</p><p>He tenses, but doesn’t move, and an involuntary moan slips from her mouth before she can entirely stifle it. He groans after her, and she wonders if he can sense the vibrations of her voice. She skims her fingernails down his sides just enough to feel, and he groans again. She sucks a bruise into his neck, and he cries out wordlessly, but, still, doesn’t move.</p><p>She takes a moment to breathe and withdraws enough to glance between them, at his unflagging erection shuddering with his heartbeat. Her hands slip to his thighs, and she ducks to kiss him. He parts his lips but doesn’t press, doesn’t seek out her mouth with his tongue, simply lets her do what she desires. She moans into the kiss before kneeling before him, feeling the chill of the stone through her jeans. It’s a little uncomfortable, but it’s worth it for the wrecked rasp of Lucifer’s voice above her head when she takes him in hand.</p><p>“Please, please,” he mutters, torso rippling as he tries to keep his hips from bucking. She smooths her palms over the sharp juts of bone, but it no longer relaxes him, only makes his cock jerk as he pulls his lip between his teeth.</p><p>She bows her head to lick him from base to tip, and the cuffs rattle behind his back. She pulls away immediately, and he settles again, a shapeless word leaving his lips before he clears his throat and speaks.</p><p>“<em>Hell, </em> Chloe,” he mutters brokenly. She increases the speed of her strokes, and he throws his head back. “Please, please…”</p><p>She nips his inner thigh and hums against his skin. When he doesn’t try to press into her, she returns to his neglected erection and takes him into her mouth. The cuffs don’t rattle this time, though he hisses out a breath and nearly chokes on it.</p><p>As she sucks, she strokes him with one hand. The other drifts to the button on her jeans. She fumbles with it, feeling suddenly tense and hot. His moans are growing louder, hanging in the air, filled with desperation and yearning, and each makes her clench up. She manages to get the zipper down and the button unfastened, pressing the heel of her hand against where she’s throbbing. The rhythm of sucking and stroking pulls her under, and she starts to rock her hips.</p><p>She’s still mostly clothed, but Lucifer’s controlled frustration and her own need are driving her to the edge already. It would be so easy to slip her fingers into her underwear and fall over it, dragging him behind her. But she said slow, and she meant it, so she pulls away—from him, from herself—and rises to her feet. She snags a bottle of water off his side table and rubs feeling back into her knees before noisily divesting herself of shoes and socks and jeans. Her clothes fall into a hasty pile beside her, and he recovers enough to speak through his ragged breaths.</p><p>“It’s… rather… unfair that I don’t get to see the show.”</p><p>“You’ll live,” she tells him, then, thinking about it, steps forward to pull the plugs out of his ears.</p><p>“Those aren’t my eyes, Detective,” he tells her as she starts on the buttons of her blouse.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Mm,” he hums, “I missed your voice.”</p><p>She can’t quite help herself from pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. As she pulls off her shirt, he hums again and asks, “Not yet tired of this game, then?”</p><p>Chloe grins, then unclasps and drops her bra. “I’m just getting started.”</p><p>He smirks so filthily she almost gives up on her plans and rolls his shoulders as if to say, <em> Bring it on. </em></p><p>She intends to.</p><p>He looks like he’s trying to determine what she’s doing, but surprise crosses his face when she promptly straddles him. He hisses in a breath but manages to keep himself in check. She starts by running her hands up his arms and down his chest. As she glides over his stomach, he groans, but manages to not move. She diverts her course, and he looses a disappointed whine.</p><p>“Come <em> on, </em> love.”</p><p>She presses her finger to his lips and whispers, “Shh, quiet now.”</p><p>When he does as she says, gritting his teeth, a rush floods through her, settling between her legs. She still feels self-conscious about this, but it’s so much easier to feel confident with Lucifer compliant beneath her. She wraps her arms around his neck and grinds her body against his, feeling the tautness of his muscles under her belly and breasts. She can admit to herself as she presses an open-mouthed kiss to her throat that she almost likes it more when he disobeys.</p><p>She never knew games could feel quite like this.</p><p>His feet are bouncing against the floor when she pulls back, his fingers drumming increasingly frantic patterns on the cuffs. She wanted to take more time than this, but she’s throbbing between her legs, and none of their contact so far has been enough to relieve the pressure. She slides forward onto his upper thighs and takes him in hand again, rubbing the head of his cock against her soaked underwear. He swears loudly, but she doesn’t chastise him, can’t do anything more than bury her head in the crook of his neck and rock against him.</p><p>He grunts and widens his legs so he can buck his hips into her, and her breasts are rubbing against his chest, and it’s good, so good she thinks she could come like this, with just a little more, a little more…</p><p>She bites the side of his neck harder than she intended to, and he howls, hips jerking, metal screeching behind his back.</p><p>The discordant sound is enough to drag her from the edge, if just barely, and she reaches around to clasp her fingers around his wrist. “No,” she says firmly. His arms immediately slacken and retense, but the restraints don’t complain at the motion. “None of that, now.”</p><p>“Chloe…” he whines.</p><p>She releases his wrist and holds his face between her hands. “D-do you want me to get up?” she asks, not sounding nearly as certain as she did before.</p><p>But he only pants unsteadily and shakes his head, the flush on his cheeks spreading down to his neck and chest as he finds his voice. “No, no. I’ll be good, Chloe. Just… <em> please.” </em></p><p>She kisses him because she can’t stop herself, then slips her tongue between his lips to skim his teeth. She wonders idly, as she rises on shaky legs to drag down her underwear, who’s really in charge here. She’s rarely felt less in control. But then she’s clambering onto his lap, trying to avoid bashing his sensitive parts with her unsteady knees, lining them up, and it couldn’t matter less. Lucifer is holding himself in check <em> for her, </em> like he does so often, and not because she holds his leash, or even because he handed it to her. No, he controls himself, still, <em> always. </em></p><p>But this is something he offers her—like a perfect cup of coffee in the morning, like a fleeing criminal he drops at her feet. Like a story from his past or his lips around her clit. Like his demons, for better or worse. And there is such freedom in commanding the Devil, such release in having a being who dared defy even God obey her.</p><p>She’s so wet he slides in easily, and when her thighs meet his she sags against him, shivering from the sensation of fullness. She rests her forehead on his chest and listens to his heartbeat, hoping it will steady her. But it’s rapid and frantic, as uncontrolled as either of them. She presses her cheek where it’s strongest and murmurs. “Please, please…”</p><p>There’s been too much teasing, and she’s too far gone to even attempt a rhythm. He presses kisses to every part of her he can reach and asks, “What do you need?”</p><p>“Y-you can break the cuffs,” she murmurs. “Take off the blindfold. Just… I need to come, <em> please.” </em></p><p>He groans into her hair at her words, but makes no move to get out of his restraints. “I don’t need my hands, or my eyes,” he says and then jerks his hips, prepared, apparently, to prove it. His body ripples as he bucks, and she clings to him, moving with him. Her clit is rubbing against his stomach, her breasts against his chest, and she presses her mouth to the burgeoning bruise on his neck, sucking it darker.</p><p>He hisses and redoubles his efforts, thrusting upward faster and faster. There’s no elegance to his motion, no angelic grace, but she doesn’t want elegance, doesn’t want grace, just wants her Devil here between her legs, moaning openly, pulling at the cuffs he refused to remove because she put them on him. She asked him, and he agreed, and he doesn’t break deals.</p><p>But then her thoughts are lost in the thrust and the grind, and she wraps her arm around his neck, buries a hand in his hair, and grits her teeth as she clenches around him. Her vision clouds, her hearing fuzzes out, and all she can focus on is the tensing of her inner muscles as she comes, and the sweet rush of warmth as Lucifer follows after her.</p><p>When the buzzing in her ears clears a little, it’s to Lucifer muttering to himself, frustrated. With a metallic <em> snap, </em> the cuffs break, and his hands come up to pick her up and lay her on the mattress. He disappears from her perception for a moment—she can’t seem to open her eyes yet—then returns with a washcloth and a glass of water. He tips her head up to drink and wipes away the sweat from her skin and the mess between her legs. When he tries to get up again, she blindly grabs his hand. She vaguely hears his answering chuckle before he pulls her into his arms. She presses back into him, maximizing skin contact, and he hums a soft, wordless tune into her ear.</p><p>She’s nearly drifted off when he asks, “So did you like that game?”</p><p>“I did,” she murmurs, fluffing the pillow a little before collapsing back onto it.</p><p>“Is it something you’d be interested in trying again?” He takes her hand and presses a kiss to her palm.</p><p>She shivers, burrowing deeper into his arms. “Maybe next time I can try to be the domme the <em> whole </em>time. I sort of… lost it in the middle, I guess.” She means to play it off, but she’s too tired to pretend she’s not just a bit disappointed.</p><p>“Oh, love,” he says softly, entwining their fingers. “It’s a skill like anything. Just takes practice.” </p><p>And she knows he’s right, but being swamped in endorphins tends to loosen her tongue. She shrugs a shoulder and buries her face deeper into the pillows. “I don’t know, Lucifer. I just…” Even she doesn’t know what she means to say.</p><p>“Everything you do to me is wonderful,” he tells her. “And everything you let me do to you is wonderful. So we can do whatever you desire, alright?” She murmurs an affirmation. “And,” he continues brightly, a leer slipping into his tone, “you can practice on me <em> anytime.” </em></p><p>As she drifts off to sleep with the Devil at her back, Chloe knows that no matter what games they play, they’ll both win in the end.<br/><br/></p>
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